Weapon
by Piccolo is green
Summary: Engineered as a weapon for the Cold Empire, Bra Briefs' life consists of running from the Icejin Emperors. With her mother, she is on the search for the elusive rebel leader, the Saiyan Prince Vegeta. Will this man be the father she needs? Bulma/Vegeta.
1. Test Subject 5469

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own Dragonball Z.**

**A/N: **This story is an AU fic. It's going to include a lot about Bra's relationship with Vegeta, as well as lots of B/V goodness :)

This first 'chapter' is really just setting the scene for the story. What is written below is supposed to represent documents and transmissions (unfortunately I can't get the formatting as fancy as I'd like on this website). I've chosen to use the Dragonball timeline on the Pojo website for dates; the 'documents' in this first chapter relate to the year 756 (the year Goku marries Chi Chi). I've chosen to format dates as ddd/year (for example, 114/756 = the 114th day of the year 756). You can assume that all the events in Dragonball occurred, and that Goku and Chi Chi married. It is after this point that the story diverges into an AU.

This prologue is really meant to just grab your interest, and like I said, set the scene for what is to come. Once I get into actually writing the story, the questions raised by this prologue should begin to be answered. Also, some sentences in these 'reports' below might sound a bit funny but that's intended; they're meant to have that aloof, scientific feel about them.

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><p><strong>COLD EMPIRE: NORTH DIVISION<strong>

**PLANET FRIEZA #22**

**SOUTH BASE LABORATORY**

**Report Author **Dr. Mul

**Date of Commencement** 114/756

**Test Subject** #5469

**Species **Human

**Planet of Origin **Earth

**Physical Traits**

Sex: Female _(two-sex species)_

Strength: Weak _(power level sits at 2, rises to 3 when in a heightened state of stress)_

Height: 102 gv

Weight: 37 gt

Skin: Pale

Hair: Blue

Eyes: Blue

Health: Good

**Intelligence**

Subject is of abnormally high intelligence. Able to grasp foreign languages quickly. Shows interest in scientific subjects, although unwilling to discuss this further.

**Updates**

**116/756:** Information gathered from reports of subject's planet of origin show subject's intelligence to be rare among its kind. Subject formally employed as a scientist, well known for scientific endeavors. Specializes in advanced technology. Subject refuses to cooperate when questioned of this.

Subject treated in tank for broken arm, heavy bruising, lacerations to back. All injuries successfully healed.

**117/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment to stimulate ovaries (see report #233, also test subject #5464 and saiyan #4 re apparent inter-species breeding between humans and saiyans)

Subject placed in secure holdings in order to prevent sexual activities occurring between subject and soldiers. No evidence of sexual violation present although bite marks are apparent on subject's shoulder and neck. Subject treated in tank for injuries.

**118/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**119/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**120/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**121/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**122/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**123/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**124/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**125/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**126/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**127/756:** Subject injected with hormonal treatment.

**128/756: **26 ova harvested from subject. 10 selected for trial. Remaining 16 set aside for experimentation.

**129/756:** Selected (10) ova of subject fertilized with selected (10) sperm cells of saiyan #1.

**131/756: **Successful fertilizationof 8 ova. Embryos graded, best 2 (1 male, 1 female) selected for implantation. Remaining embryos frozen for future use.

2 selected embryos transferred to test subject.

**144/756:** Subject tested positive for pregnancy. Unable to detect whether both embryos successfully implanted.

**156/756:** Subject suffering from apparent side-effects of pregnancy, including tender breasts and frequent vomiting. Subject has informed that this is common amongst pregnant human females. See test subject #5464, who also experienced similar symptoms during first trimester.

**193/756:** Ultrasound shows single, strong heartbeat within the subject's womb. Sex of fetus unknown.

**249/756:** Fetal develop appears normal. Ultrasound imaging shows fetus has inherited the saiyan tail. It is noted that all saiyan/human fetuses analysed so far appear to have inherited this trait.

Subject displaying physical signs of pregnancy including enlarged breasts and growing waist measurement. Subject appears healthy.

**277/756:** Subject well into second trimester. Appears healthy, although mentally withdrawn.

Ultrasound determined the fetus to be female.

New historical research has lead to understanding that female saiyans are naturally weaker than their male counterparts. Consultation with Lord Frieza via transmission resulted in decision to abort fetus. Subject will be impregnated with remaining male embryos.

ghktgvjk subjecthuijhhattack! hj vbjhg

**POSTSCRIPT 278/756:**

Dr. Mul found dead in laboratory. Test subject missing from base. Appears that test subject stabbed deceased with scapel, administered lethal dose of anesthetic to deceased. No evidence that scheduled abortion of female saiyan/human fetus took place.

NOTE although human species uncharacteristically weak, maternal instincts of pregnant human females appear strong, may be dangerous. All remaining pregnant human females now under stricter surveillance. It is advised that guards remain present during all medical examinations and procedures.

Report to be submitted to Lord Frieza.

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><p>IMPORTANT MESSAGE STOP A FEMALE HUMAN SLASH EARTHLING HAS ESCAPED PLANET FRIEZA NUMBER TWENTY TWO STOP HER CURRENT WHERABOUTS ARE UNKNOWN STOP SHE IS WEAK AND PREGNANT COMMA BUT HIGHLY INTELLIGENT STOP TREAT WITH CAUTION STOP IF FEMALE IS FOUND COMMA REPORT THROUGH SCOUTER BEFORE COMMENCING RETRIEVAL OPERATION STOP APPEARANCE OF FEMALE IS AS FOLLOWS COMMA BLUE HAIR COMMA BLUE EYES COMMA PALE SKIN COMMA HEIGHT ONE OH TWO GV COMMA FIVE MONTHS PREGNANT STOP A REWARD OF TEN THOUSAND GWUPS WILL BE AWARDED TO THE SOLDIER WHO APPREHENDS SAID FEMALE STOP ALL HAIL LORD FRIEZA STOP<p> 


	2. One

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.**

**A/N: **Just as a disclaimer, I use New Zealand English when I write (with the exception of when I write accented dialogue, e.g. "Mommy" rather than "Mummy"). As a result, some words may look weird to those who are used to US English. The main one to watch out for in this chapter is 'cheque' (as in "I'll write you a cheque"), which (I just realised today) is spelled 'check' in US English.

Also, I'm in love with hinodegiri's fanfic _Overflow_ (read it!). In that story Yamcha's nickname for Marron is 'baby girl', and I couldn't help using it in my own fic. :)

Lastly, thank you to all of the reviewers so far; your words have really encouraged me!

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><p><strong>One<strong>

**Day 165 in the Standard Year 762**

The marketplace was bustling with beings of all sorts, filling Bra's small head with so many noises and smells that she felt overwhelmed. She clutched her mother's hand tighter as she came close to being trodden on by a six-legged mule, and pressed herself further against her mama's leg.

"I can walk, Mama," she protested as her mother picked her up and out of the way of the dumb beasts that lumbered past in a train. She was five, and to her that meant she was a Big Girl- big enough to walk beside her mother instead of being carried around like a baby. Nevertheless, she didn't resist any further when her mother pressed her covered face close to her ear and whispered "Shh, it's okay sweetie," and instead wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. Secretly, she still preferred to be carried, especially in a confusing place like this.

For Bulma, she felt a lot safer with Bra in her arms. It seemed silly; her daughter, after all, was half Saiyan, and thousands of times stronger than she would ever be. But in a place as busy as Shoka Fair, she felt far less anxious when she had a firm grip on Bra. Her greatest fear was losing her little girl, and it seemed unnervingly likely amidst the throng of smelly, sweaty bodies that crushed between the rows of market stalls.

With speed that came from the experiences of many market run-ins, she stepped to the side in order to let another cart of goods pass. When the dust that sprung from the cart's wheels cleared, she spotted a small, unoccupied alcove between two stalls. Though her progress was hindered by the numerous bodies that bumped rudely into her, she eventually made her way over to the shadowed area, sighing when she finally put her child back down on the ground. She chewed her bottom lip, briefly wondering how she was going to do things as Bra continued to grow. It wouldn't be long before the little girl would be too heavy to carry for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Can we take these things off now? It's sooo hot!" Bra exclaimed, her small gloved hands already pulling at the dark grey cloth that covered her face and neck, leaving only her bright blue eyes visible beneath the hood of her cloak.

"No sweetie," Bulma replied, crouching down and reaching out to still Bra's little hands. "Remember what we talked about?" she whispered quietly, knowing her daughter's sensitive ears would pick up her voice, even with the noise of the crowd all around. "It's safer for us to hide our faces here; we don't want anyone to recognize us. I know it's hot under there, but I promise, we only need to find a few more parts and then we're good to go."

Bulma could only just make out her daughter's sigh over the noise that surrounded them. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh at her child's slumped shoulders, and instead pulled her little girl closer, wrapping her arms around Bra's small frame. Underneath the layers of fabric that covered the child's head and body, Bulma could feel her daughter's well-hidden tail. She once again sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever _kami_ seemed to be looking out for them; it was always easier to hide her daughter's Saiyan tail on planets where the locals dressed in baggy robes. The fact that thick cloaks and facial coverings were highly fashionable here- worn also out of practicality due to the numerous dust storms that plagued Shokata- made it even easier to shop. Underneath the robes that hid her face and frame, rendering her both irrelevant and unrecognizable, Bulma felt far safer than she had in years, even amongst the crown of money-hungry merchants and less-than-trustworthy customers.

"I'll tell you what," she said to her small daughter. "Once we find the seller we need and buy everything, we'll go back that way and get some of those dumplings that looked so yummy," she bargained, nodding in the direction of the food stalls in the distance. "We can get the shop lady to wrap them up so we can eat them back on the ship."

As expected, Bra perked up at the mention of food. "Let's hurry!" she said, her small hand reaching for Bulma's much larger one. "I'm hungry, Mama!"

"You're always hungry," Bulma laughed, crouching so that Bra could climb onto her back. "Come on, baby girl; the sooner we get this over and done with, the better."

. . .

"Sixty five," the alien said, his two pairs of black bug eyes blinking all at once from above his long, trunk-like nose. Bulma repressed the urge to shudder, and was glad she didn't have to worry about schooling her expression behind the cloth that covered her face- the alien both looked and smelled disgusting, and seemed to be something of a cross between a pink elephant and a grasshopper. He stood behind the back counter of his shabbily-constructed shack, the surrounding walls covered with display after display of dusty engine parts. Cardboard boxes of scrap metal and spare parts lined the floor, and she could hear Bra behind her, quietly sifting through the contents of one such container.

"Fifty," Bulma shot back, her voice sounding deep, husky, and masculine thanks to the small electronic device she wore loosely over her lips. "And that's my final offer. I won't pay any more for this pile of shit, so take it or leave it."

"No, no, no," the junk trader replied in his heavy accent. "Sixty five gwups. Final offer. You take it or leave it, and see if I care."

"Fifty," she replied, trying to add as much malice as she could into her voice. Thankfully, the auto-tune device did it for her, making her sound far more powerful than she really was.

The bug-elephant man's eyes blinked rapidly; from what Bulma could tell, this meant he was pissed off. "Bah," he spat. "I will give you it all for sixty."

"Fifty."

It was at this moment that she felt a small hand tugging at her grey robe. Bra stood at her hip, still swathed in a mass of grey fabric, carefully clutching her own pile of spare parts. The little girl didn't speak, but with big blue eyes that were perfectly skilled at expressing silent pleas, she didn't have to. Bulma reached down, her gloved hand quickly sifting through the various contents of her daughter's arms. Turning back to the trader, she sighed.

"I'll give you sixty," she growled, "if you include this junk as well."

The trader's eyes flickered to the pile in Bra's arms for only a moment. Seeing no use in what was there, he shrugged. "Deal," he said evenly. "You want that packaged? It's another gwup for plastic cases; environment tax," he added smoothly.

Bulma sighed, knowing that for once, the merchant wasn't bullshitting with her. She had no idea why the Cold Empire had suddenly become wary of the environment on Shokata- most likely it was just another revenue-grabbing exercise- but she was growing impatient, and couldn't be bothered bartering any more. She pulled out sixty one gwups in cash- they couldn't trace her that way- and handed it over silently. The trader grinned in reply, or at least she though he grinned, it was hard to see his mouth with his trunk in the way.

At least Bra was behaving herself. Bulma watched as the little girl placed her things on the counter, drawing her gloved hands away quickly before the trader could touch her. She grinned up at her mother; again, Bulma didn't need to see Bra's hidden mouth to know this, as the little girl's beaming eyes said it all.

"What are you going to make with it?" she gestured to her daughter, using the Earth's sign language. She'd only learnt it on Earth because it was a good PR stunt- the genius Bulma Briefs of Capsule Corporation learning sign in two weeks, so that she could communicate unaided with the newly-appointed deaf member of the board of directors- but the knowledge had proved surprisingly useful in her new life in space. With sign she could communicate with her daughter- for she'd taught Bra the language from day one- in almost any setting without others realising what was going on.

"Our toaster broke again; remember?" Bra signed back. "I'm going to fix it."

"Of course," Bulma replied silently, her eyes flickering over to the trader to check that his back was still turned, before adding "I forgot."

It was at that moment that another alien entered the small shack through the back door. The trader looked up and spoke sharply in an alien language; in return the second alien shrugged and picked up another plastic carton, passing it to the trader. Bulma kept her eyes lowered, not really paying attention to what the two men said, despite the fact that she knew enough _Ganshup_ to get by. However, her head snapped up as a single word caught her attention.

"… _Saiyans fucking ripped us off, those monkey bastards. I should have known their money was no good; the cheque fucking bounced this morning – "_

"_If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, you don't accept cheques! Cash – good; credit chip – also good, but fucking paper cheques? No way! Idiot!" _the trader shot back at his colleague, his mouth turned down in an ugly sneer.

"_It ain't my fault those no good filthy monkeys can't be trusted. We should just turn them in. Frieza wants 'em all dead anyways."_

"_Bah. We would be dead within the week; you think a mere sighting of some low-class Saiyans would really interest Frieza? No, but it'd get us killed for sure. I see now that you're an even bigger idiot than I originally thought."_

Bulma forced herself to lower her eyes once more, though her heart raced at the information. And although it wasn't a language Bra understood, Bulma could tell her daughter had picked up on the relevant keyword. "Act normal," Bulma signed discretely. "Do not look at the aliens, okay?"

"But what are they saying?" Bra signed back. "Mama?" she gestured wildly.

"Hush," Bulma replied quickly, despite the fact that Bra wasn't making any noise.

"_Do you think they're with the rebels?"_ the idiot colleague was asking.

"_I don't know, and I don't care. Stop asking stupid questions, idiot; you'll get us killed."_

"_But there's supposed to be only three full-blooded Saiyans left in existence now; you don't think those two are two of those three? 'Cause if they are, and we know, and we don't tell, and Frieza finds out – "_

"_Shut up! Do you want to die?"_

"_No – "_

"_Then be quiet! There were never any Saiyans here,"_ the trader hissed vehemently, _"you never served any Saiyans! They don't exist!"_

"_But I can still smell Saiyans even now; it's lingering in the air – "_

"_SHUT UP!"_

Bulma placed a calming hand on Bra's cloaked head, and was shocked to find her daughter trembling. "It's okay," she signed quickly. "Honey, it's okay."

The trader seemed to suddenly remember their presence; he roughly packaged the rest of their goods, before handing the two plastic boxes over. Bulma tried to take them quickly, but the trader's grip remained on the goods as his four eyes scrutinised her for a moment. _"Do you understand?"_ he asked in his native tongue.

"Look, can we just go?" she growled back. "I don't understand your fucking gibberish, and I'm not in the mood for games, you fuckwit." Inwardly, her chest pained at the thought that she was a bad mother, cursing up a storm in front of her child, but in this case necessity called for such an action.

The alien seemed satisfied with the answer. He let the boxes go, and Bulma turned her back on the small market shop without any further hesitation. Bra trotted beside her, the girl's small gloved hand clutching at her robe once more as they lost themselves within the crush of bodies outside. They moved swiftly through the crowd and down past the food stalls without stopping. Lunch could wait.

Bulma continued to check behind her, ignoring her sore feet, and the weight of the vital equipment in her arms. Not once did she see anyone following them.

Still, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and her spine prickled. If ever she felt the need to watch her back- and more importantly, her daughter's- it was now.


	3. Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.**

**A/N: **In terms of Bulma's age, she was 22 when she was abducted from Earth, making her 28 now. If you're interested in seeing what ages all the other characters are, I suggest using the timeline on the Pojo dragonball website, as I've taken the dates of everything from there.

I've also changed the two main characters that show up on the story summary to Bulma and Vegeta (you see, when I first wrote the prologue I had intended to write the story from Bra's POV, but that hasn't happened haha). Bra _is_ still a main character, and there will definitely be a huge focus on her relationship with Vegeta, but I love the B/V pairing too much and I've decided that this story is also going to have a lot of Bulma/Vegeta interaction.

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><p><strong>Two<strong>

**Day 165 in the Standard Year 762**

"You idiot!" the trader cried in Ganshup, whirling around to face his idiot cousin. "They understood you! How many times have I told you not to talk about things like that in front of the customers?"

"Aww boss, they didn't hear anyth –"

"They heard it all, you fool!" His voice dropped low, his teeth grinding together behind his trunk. "Did it occur to you that those Saiyans might still be hanging around? If they heard you saying such things- and they have crazy hearing, you idiot! If they heard you… or if whatever-that-bitch-was knows them, they'll come back here now. I know what those Saiyans are like. I wasn't always stuck on this goddamned shithole. I remember how it was in the old days when Saiyans were everywhere... they're fucking ruthless! You're going to get us killed, you useless motherfucker!"

"Yeah… well if you're that worried, boss, I'll go get them back. They can't talk if they're dead," his cousin added, waving a dirty pink hand in the general direction that the two customers had headed.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day," the trader replied, pushing past his cousin and reaching under the back bench. He pulled out his old blaster, sighing as he slung the strap over his shoulder.

"I'll go after them myself."

. . .

It was plain old Human instinct that made Bulma leave the merchant's stall so quickly, and she worried over it as she continued to move quickly through the crush of bodies that surrounded both her and her daughter. Though the merchant had let her go, she had a distinct feeling that he didn't believe her when she said she didn't understand Ganshup, and she continued to check behind her, looking out for either of the two aliens from the stall.

_If it were me_, she thought, her chest tight with fear, _and I thought I someone had information that threatened my life,_ _I would not have let them go._ And that was the crux of it; she'd learnt, over the past six years, just how much of a dog-eat-dog world the universe was. An eye for an eye, a fist for a fist; this was how the universe functioned away from the sheltered life that had once existed on Earth.

The fact that Saiyans, _The Saiyans_, had been here in the same market just a day before was something to wonder at, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on leaving the fair as quickly as possible.

As she ran through Shoka Fair, Bulma did her best to ignore the ache of her arms, and the burning of her chest as she gasped for breath. Underneath her hood her hair grew damp and matted to her forehead, and her eyes began to sting as beads of sweat rolled down her face.

Still, she did not slow her frantic pace, knowing that her daughter would keep up easily. Though their movement through the crowd was hindered by all the other aliens, they still grew closer and closer to the southern edge of the market. From there it was only a short distance across an empty plateau to the edge of a short, but sharp cliff. It was at the bottom of the sharp drop- far away from the parking lot on the northern edge of the vast market- that Bulma had left their small ship, in the hope that neither the ship nor themselves would be recognised.

"Almost there," she gasped, seeing the crowd thinning ahead. Her blue eyes met the matching pair of her daughters, and her heart broke, seeing the fear in those innocent eyes. This was far less of a life than her daughter deserved, and it drove her wild that she was powerless to do anything about it. Once upon a time she had lived like a queen, and her daughter deserved no less. Yet here they were, amongst the throngs of petty criminals and evil soldiers, always on the run and struggling to survive. What kind of life was that for a child?

They came to the edge of the fair, ignoring the few seedy individuals who lingered here on the outskirts. Heads down and hoods masking their faces, they hurried away from the market and towards the cliff edge in the distance. Bulma continued to check behind them, but the drug addicts and gamblers were far too consumed in their own lives to pay them any attention, and she felt the worry in her chest begin to lighten. They were almost safe.

The ground was rough, strewn with loose stones and the odd, cactus-like plant. "Careful!" she gasped, as Bra swerved around one of the poisonous plants, the child's small hands letting go of her mother's clothing for a moment. The little girl turned around to face Bulma effortlessly, her movements graceful as she continued to keep at her mother's pace with ease.

"It's okay Ma – _MAMA!_" Bra squealed, her eyes wide as saucers as she peered at something in the distance. Bulma stopped running and whipped her head around, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the mess of stalls and shacks behind them. Her eyes widened as she spotted what her daughter's keen sight already had- the trader from the spare parts stall was racing towards them on a hover bike, a nasty looking ki-blaster strapped to one of his arms.

"Bra!" she yelled, dropping the boxes of parts from her arms. "Get the ship running!" she cried, gesturing widely to the cliff edge. Bra hesitated, her bright blue eyes wide with fright behind the shadow of her hood.

"But Mama!"

"_GO!_" Bulma yelled, dropping to her knees as she pulled a capsule out of her pocket. Pressing down on the cap, she placed it directly in front of her, and wasted no time in picking up the large blaster gun that appeared in its place.

Cursing, she realised that she only had enough energy in the gun for one shot as she swung the huge weapon onto her shoulder and peered down the sight. This, of course, only added to the danger, giving her only one chance to get it right.

"Kami damnit," she hissed under her breath, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. In the background she heard the noise of the ship's revving engine, but she barely registered the fact as she peered down the barrel of the blaster, waiting for the perfect moment. Too soon and she'd miss; too late, and the stupid merchant would kill her instead.

_Bad luck._ The bitter thought ran through her head, making her blood boil. Of all things, to be hunted because she'd overheard a conversation that put the merchants in potential danger from _Saiyans_… of all things! She hissed under her breath, shifting her knees subtly. The merchant was still travelling towards her at full speed, his arm rising as he planned to take his own shot.

She pulled the trigger, her heart stopping as nothing happened. "No, no, _no!_" she cried as the gun failed to work, no powerful laser beam flying forth from the barrel. With horror she realised that the trader was now close enough to use his own weapon, and she sat frozen on the dry ground as he steadied his arm, his bike still racing towards her.

"MAMA!" she heard Bra scream, at the same moment she saw a flash of red emerge from the trader's gun.

Bright light filled her vision, blinding her, as her daughter's screams filled her ears. She screamed too, as hot air blasted her skin, throwing her hood back and whipping her long aqua hair out behind her. Fear filled her, fear for her daughter's safety, and for herself, even as the light disappeared and the hot wind died down.

She was blind. She blinked, ears ringing and eyes streaming as her vision slowly came back, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She squinted painfully, making out the capsules around her, the fallen boxes of parts that she so desperately needed, and Bra, standing just in front of her.

"Bra," she croaked, and licked her dry, chapped lips. "Bra!" She crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling far too shaky to stand. Bra turned towards her, her blue hair a mussed up mess and her cloak hanging open, and collapsed into Bulma's arms with a sob.

"I don't know what happened Mama, but I want to go!" the little girl cried, burying her face in her mother's bosom. Bulma wrapped her arms around her daughter's small form, closing her eyes and burying her face in her daughter's hair. It was only when Bra's sobs began to die down that her thoughts, still in a state of confusion, alerted her to the fact that she was alive when she should not have been, for surely the trader had had ample opportunity to kill them both now?

She lifted her face from Bra' hair, a gasp escaping her lips as her mouth dropped open, eyes wide in surprise. Before her, where the marketplace had been only minutes before, was nothing but charred, smoking earth. There was no trader in sight, no other aliens, no stalls, no shops.

She shuddered, realising that there was no other life left on the plateau but her and her daughter. The sight brought back memories of the purge on Earth, memories that she had long tried to suppress.

Bra sniffled, rubbing her little face against Bulma's shirt. Licking her lips, Bulma swallowed nervously, despite her dry throat. "Bra, honey," she whispered, "do you know what happened just now?"

The little girl shook her head furiously, fresh tears spilling from her reddened eyes. "Nooo!"

"You don't know at all? I thought you were down at the ship?" Bulma asked gently, stroking her daughter's hair. "How did you get back up the cliff?"

Bra rubbed her eyes, pressing herself further against her mother. "I jumped back up. And I saw the bad man shoot, and I got so angry and scared 'cause he was gonna hurt you Mama, and I don't know what happened!" she cried, her voice rising in distress. "My skin got so hot, and my hands _hurt!_" At this final statement the little girl began to wail outright, and Bulma held her tighter, her head reeling and her heart sore as she came to the only conclusion that made any sense.

Her daughter had destroyed Shoka Fair.

. . .

Bulma wrapped a towel around her dripping daughter, being careful not to touch Bra's burnt hands. She knelt beside the child and rummaged through the small bathroom cabinet, pulling out a small jar of soothing lotion and opening the lid. Both mother and daughter screwed their noses up reflexively as the strong antiseptic smell permeated the air, overriding the citrus scent of Bra's freshly-washed hair and tail.

Ignoring the smell, Bulma dipped a finger into the jar, and began to gently rub the cream into her daughter's blistered hands. "Does that feel better sweetie?" she asked, dipping her finger in the jar once more, before rubbing another dollop over the child's reddened skin. Bra nodded in reply, although her sweet face remained pinched with pain.

"If only we had a senzu bean," Bulma murmured under her breath, eyeing Bra's hands. The burns were more than enough proof that the girl had flattened over a square mile of stalls accidentally, and Bulma chewed her lip with worry.

"What's a _sennsuu_?" Bra asked, and Bulma smiled, picking her daughter up in her arms and carrying the girl through the ship to their small bedroom.

"A _senzu_," she replied, adopting the tone she always used when telling her daughter a bedtime story, "is a magical bean."

"Like Jack's bean and the giant beanstalk?"

"No," Bulma replied with a laugh. "Jack and the Beanstalk is a fairy-tale. Senzu beans were real beans, and they grew on Earth. My friend Son-kun was the first person to ever show me some senzu beans. A big old talking cat gave them to him."

"Yay! It's a Son-kun story!" Bra cried, her voice muffled by her towel as Bulma scrubbed the girl's hair dry. "Those stories are my favourite! I want to hear about Son-kun and the magic dragon again!"

"All right, all right," Bulma replied, pulling a nightgown over her daughter's head. She held the tail-hole at the back of the gown open for Bra so that the child could slip her tail through the garment, before picking up her daughter's hairbrush to begin the time-consuming task of teasing out all the tangles in the girl's hair. "But I'll tell you about the senzu beans first, okay?"

"O-kay!" Bra replied, her burnt hands forgotten as she clambered up onto the small bed they shared. "Tell me!"

. . .

Bulma waited until she was certain that Bra was sleeping before slipping out from under the bedcovers. Bra stirred and murmured intelligibly, making Bulma freeze, the edge of the blanket still in her hand as she watched her daughter's eyelids flutter, but the little girl's movements stilled once more, allowing Bulma to sneak out of the bedroom.

She was glad to have a little solitude, she thought, especially after the day they'd just had. She didn't bother switching on the main lights in the corridor that cut through the heart of their small ship, and simply felt her way down the hall and into her lab.

"Kami," she whispered as she stood in the lab doorway. In the dark she could see out the small porthole, and she leaned against the doorframe, watching the stars in the distance.

_My daughter killed them all._

She chewed her lip, her eyes focused on nothing in particular as she ran through the day's events in her mind. She regretted even setting foot on Shokata; in hindsight the parts, as important as they were, hadn't been worth the trouble.

With a sigh she switched on the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent. She sat down at her computer, pulling up the latest news reports. The destruction of Shoka Fair had made the headlines, and she skimmed through numerous articles with a heavy heart. "Ten thousand estimated casualties," she whispered, feeling sick. "Holy shit."

As far as she could tell, Bra had no recollection of firing a ki blast, nor did she understand exactly what had happened. To the little girl, the disappearance of Shoka Fair was due to some random act of 'magic', and Bulma wasn't about to correct her on that assumption.

She had known from the beginning that her daughter would be strong. She shivered as she remembered the old, green-beaked doctor that had presided over the 'experiments' on Frieza's base. Dr. Mul had chosen the best genetics for her child; after all, Bra was supposed to have been Frieza's ultimate weapon- a child that had her genius, combined with the strength of the Saiyan Prince. Her blood froze at the thought of Bra purging planets and being subjected to the cruel life in Frieza's army.

And yet, purging planets was not far from what had happened today. Bra had single-handedly killed a ten thousand in an instant, without even knowing what she was doing. The sheer monstrosity of Bra's dormant power shocked Bulma, and only reinforced her opinion of what was necessary.

Bra needed training. Bulma knew as much from her own experiences with fighters; back before Frieza's soldiers attacked Earth, she had once complained to Master Roshi that Goku trained too much. The old man's reply had been simple; anyone with that much power _had_ to train. Without training, one with that much power risked destroying themselves, and anyone else around them.

As much as the thought of Bra fighting disturbed her, in her heart she knew it was what the girl needed. Bra was half-Saiyan- the same species as Goku- and she knew now that Saiyans lived to fight.

She rubbed her head, feeling a headache coming on, and stared at the wall, her thoughts a jumbled mess. _I don't even know how to take care of my own daughter_, she thought dejectedly. _Parts of her are too alien for me to understand._

Saiyans. She couldn't believe the Saiyans had been at Shoka fair. _Kami, I hope they weren't caught in the blast!_ She knew all about the three remaining Saiyans- she'd stolen their files from Frieza's database, long ago- and she knew they had a reputation for brutal violence. But since their defection from the Cold Empire- not long after she escaped from Frieza's labs herself- they'd engaged in a number of attacks on Frieza's troops. Word had it that the Saiyan Prince was even the man behind the largest rebel group, and that alone gave Bulma hope that she could approach them.

It was a crazy idea, but after the day's events, the need to engage with those that understood her child was stronger than ever. The Saiyan Prince was the father of her child, after all. Surely he would understand, surely he would help a fellow rebel?

For now, though, she had no real way of getting to the Saiyans. They remained secretive, and she only heard word of them every so often, which left her with nothing but her memories of Goku, the odd history books, and the files from Frieza's database to understand her daughter's Saiyan half.

Clicking open the _Saiyan_ folder on her desktop, she pulled up all the files she had, skimming through them despite the fact that she knew each one off-by-heart. Nothing on Nappa, Raditz or Vegeta mentioned sudden increases in power, nor sudden bouts of automatism, and yet she had seen something similar with her own eyes before, the two times that Son-kun had transformed into a giant ape. Both times he's lost complete control of himself, and both times he had no recollection of his actions afterwards.

"She's a hybrid," Bulma muttered to herself, chewing on her bottom lip. Perhaps- just perhaps- it was the mix of Human and Saiyan blood together that gave Bra such immense hidden power. Son-kun certainly hadn't been that strong as a child.

_Hybrid vigour_. It was a likely theory- when the scientists on Frieza's base had found out that Chi Chi was pregnant with Goku's baby, and that the child's power level, even within the womb, was high, they'd thrown the term around so much that Frieza himself had caught interest. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered that harrowing time- remembered the hands of soldiers and scientists on her, violating, testing, implanting. Her hands shook and she forced herself to take a deep breath, forced her mind to push the memories back down, far away into that black corner of her mind where they belonged.

Still, the ghost of terror remained, making the hairs rise on her arms. And above it all she felt an overwhelming guilt, because she had escaped from the hell-hole laboratory, and her friends had not.

"Oh Kami… Goku, Chi Chi," she whispered, thinking of them. Were they still alive? Where was Chi Chi's baby now? And what of all the other Human women that had been taken from Earth? At the time of her escape, over twenty of them had also been impregnated, their bellies swelling with half-Saiyans for Frieza's pet project.

She'd tried her best to find information on the breeding scheme, but if the experiments were still going- and she was certain that they were- the information was hidden somewhere that she hadn't been able to access.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, her mind turning once more to Goku. She'd last seen him in ki-draining chains, looking like the shell of the boy he'd once been. And his young wife...

She slumped back in her chair, tears running silently down her cheeks, a sick hollowness swirling in her guts. Logically, she knew that she had been extremely lucky to escape Frieza's labs. Logically, she knew that there was no way she could have saved them, having only a small window of opportunity to escape herself.

But no amount of logic could erase the guilt. Six years ago she'd chosen to save her own life, her baby's life. She'd murdered a man for it. She'd left her friends to die.

She shut down her computer, slowly rising to her feet. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Her eyes rested on the box of parts that sat inconspicuously in the corner of the lab. They were what she needed, all right, but the thought that ten thousand people at Shoka Fair had died because she'd been there today, buying the parts, chilled her to the core.

She needed to find the Saiyans. Bra needed them.

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><p><strong>AN:** I'm not trying to make Bra overly powerful (she's only five, has no idea what she's doing, and has never had a martial arts lesson in her life). What I'm basing her strength on is Gohan- when he was four, Piccolo threw him at a massive cliff, and he completely destroyed it (and my understanding is that he had no idea/recollection of the attack afterwards). So I think it's possible that Bra could unintentionally throw out an attack when her mother was in immediate danger- especially because _this_ version of Bra (it's an AU after all) was specifically 'created' using the best of Vegeta's genes.

Personally, I do think hybrid vigour is to blame when it comes to Gohan's hidden strength. How else could Gohan, Goten and Trunks all have become SSJ at such a young age?


	4. Interlude: Lord and Liege

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.**

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><p><strong>Interlude: Lord and Liege<strong>

A small child stands beside his Lord's throne, his pudgy features hard with a seriousness usually found only on those far beyond his years. Had he been born and raised on his mother's home planet, he would have only just begun his primary education. He may have gone to school and made friends with others his age, or stayed at home and spent mornings learning with his mother, and afternoons playing with his father.

But this child knows nothing of friendship or play. His father is dead, and his mother is a mere shell of the woman she used to be, caged in the lower dungeons of his Lord's 22nd planet. He is not trifled by such matters; all he knows of his father is the man's _Earthling_ name, and all he ever sees of his mother are faint, forgotten memories that flit through his twisted dreams every so often.

All he knows is what his Lord tells him. He is a strong, intelligent boy; the strongest and oldest of his kind. He is special, because he is a Saiyan-Human hybrid, with the power to destroy entire worlds, and the potential to destroy all who dare to defy his Lord.

He is a bloodthirsty killer. He trains with the determination of one who wants nothing but to succeed. This earns him praise from his Lord, but he is also well aware of the punishments that come from upsetting Lord Frieza. He has been to the dungeons many times before, felt the sting of ki whips against his skin, and heard the sound of his own flesh tearing.

But after each incident his Lord is always kind, and the boy understands that this punishment is for his own good. It makes him stronger and reminds him to always respect the mighty Lord Frieza, who is the only father figure he has ever known.

His Lord runs his cold, clammy fingers through the boy's shaggy hair. Many of the hybrids resemble their mother's people, but this boy resembles a Saiyan in appearance, his hair and eyes as dark as the cold, endless space.

"One day you will lead my army, my little pet," his Lord murmurs. There is silence, and the boy stands still under his Lord's red-eyed gaze. "You will be the greatest soldier of them all, my little monkey general!"

On some level, the boy understands that this hybrid army has become his Lord's obsession. The breeding is on-going; every year, more and more hybrids are created. As their numbers swell, his Lord's excitement increases. They are all his pets, his children that will shock the universe with their strength and cunning.

The boy smirks, his sharp canines glinting in the harsh light of the ship as his lips part into a wide, disturbed smile.

"I will kill that rebel Vegeta," he tells his Lord. The Lord laughs in reply, throwing his head back and cackling with unhinged mirth.

"When the time comes you will bring him to me," his Lord eventually answers. "And we will kill him together." His Lord pats his head with something akin to affection, although northing of the sort ever reaches the Lord's eyes.

"Oh, my little monkey boy," his Lord murmurs. "My little _Gohan_."

The boy looks out to the stars that surround them. One day he will find Vegeta, and make his Lord proud.


End file.
